


This Christmas

by seekrest



Series: Merry and Bright [8]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: (but they’re too dumb to notice), Alternate Universe - College/University, College Student Peter Parker, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Jewish Peter Parker, Light Angst, Michelle Jones is a Little Shit, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Protective Michelle Jones, is there such a thing as too many college AUs?, the answer is no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21854797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: Peter rolls his eyes now, throwing his hands up. “We’re at a party, MJ. Don’t bring this up again.”“Love is a chemical reaction, a mix of endorphins and serotonin.“I’m not doing this with you.” Peter says.Michelle puts a hand out, motioning towards the crowd of dancers in the center of the room.“Leave then. Bye.”But he doesn’t, just as Michelle had expected he wouldn’t - just folding his arms together, leaning against the pillar and giving her a sideways glance.“Can’t get rid of me that easily, MJ.”Michelle smirks, rolling her eyes once more.“Trust me, I know that by now.”
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: Merry and Bright [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559587
Comments: 52
Kudos: 199





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spidermanhomecomeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spidermanhomecomeme/gifts).



> Merry Christmas G!!! What better way to celebrate than a Christmas themed college AU!? :)

“This is dumb.” 

Betty rolled her eyes, fixing the bell dangling from her hat as Michelle leans against the doorway, folding her arms. 

“It wasn’t dumb last week when you said you would do it.” 

Michelle rolls her eyes, the itchy fabric of the weather she had on irritating her skin. 

“I was drunk, Betty. You know I shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions when I’ve had that much tequila.”

Betty snickers as she turns to face Michelle, the harsh fluorescent lighting doing nothing to dim the way her eyes light up at seeing Michelle’s outfit. 

It was ridiculous, a cheesy Christmas sweater that said “Merry Fucking Christmas” that she’d picked up at the mall - only dragged there for the express purpose of finding something for this lame ass party. 

It wasn’t as cute or as “festive” as Betty’s Santa’s Little Helper Elf costume but it did the trick. Paired with black skinny jeans and knee-high black boots - it was something Michelle could tolerated wearing in public, if she had to go out to begin with. 

“You look so cute, oh my God.” 

Michelle just rolls her eyes again, wishing for death for as Betty squeals.

“You literally look like a hot Santa, this is amazing.”

“Please, never say those words to me ever again. Hot Santa is the kind of mental image I’ll never be able to get rid of now.” Michelle mutters, unfurling her arms to wave a hand around.

She should’ve expected Betty would go all out, the bells from her hat jingling as she clapped her hands together - Michelle almost smiling at the ridiculous way the light reflected off of the sequins of her costume.

It was a stupid thing - a end of year holiday party, on the weekend before finals, with entry barred unless you showed up in some ridiculous costume. 

Michelle had half a mind to just skip out on the whole thing, several hundred reasons why it was a bad idea - not least of which included the final paper she hadn’t finished for her English Romanticism class.

She wasn’t really worried about finals, considering most of them would be in essay format anyway. It was senior year, one more semester to go and senioritis had kicked in months ago.

But ER had been a pain in her ass the whole semester, having to listen to exaggerated whining about love from the authors and her classmates alike.

Michelle wasn’t naive enough to think love was real, not in the way Mary Shelley seemed to think of it anyway. Mary was a badass, basically invented science fiction and yet completely enamored with Percy Blysse Shelley - a relationship that Michelle thought gave her nothing but heartache.

Keats. Byron. Wordsworth. It was all the same.

Love was a sham and Michelle was tired of pretending it was anything but. 

Betty smiled before turning back around, finishing the last of her eyeshadow as Michelle watched. 

It was the last big paper she had to work on, the only thing she was really stressed about.

On the one hand, she knew Betty would be upset but ultimately understanding if she stayed home to finish it - knowing that Michelle’s priority had been and always would be her education.

But on the other, Michelle had given Betty her word - even if she had been drunk. Plus Betty was a good friend, a good roommate and was psyching herself up to talk to some guy she’d been semi-flirting with all semester.

Michelle could suck it up for a night and be there for her.

* * *

The music is loud, pounding in her ears as they walk into the abandoned warehouse. It was a cliche, the kind of college party you’d see on television - dimly lit rooms, a cheap smoke machine and LED lights. 

Michelle had been to plenty of parties over the years, mostly as fodder for discussion for her sociology classes - and this one was no difference, except for one glaring exception.

It was like Christmas had thrown up and then died - the walls covered with some kind of red wrapping paper, from what she could guess - snowflakes hanging down from the ceiling, the music that was playing some kind of remixed version of holiday songs.

Michelle would almost be impressed by the production value of the party if she wasn’t so determined not to have a good time, being there as a support for Betty and not much else.

“This is amazing!” Betty exclaims as she takes everything in, Michelle nudging her with a smirk on her face.

“This is corny.” Betty just rolled her eyes, seeing right through her as she says, “Don’t even, MJ. This place looks great and you know it.”

Michelle says nothing, not wanting to lie but not wanting to give Betty the satisfaction. She takes her silence as one anyway, beaming as she turns to her and says, “I’ll go get us some drinks.”

Michelle just nods, moving away from the entrance to some corner of the room where no one can bother her - hoping that Betty will get distracted before finding her again.

Her duty as the best friend in this scenario would mean she could stick it out at the party for one hour, two hours tops - and then she could leave, having made enough of a presence and given Betty plenty of time to make whatever move she’d wanted to.

Michelle finds a pillar to lean against, taking in the crowd around her and the obnoxious costumes people were wearing.

Much like the Halloween scene of Mean Girls fame, the party seemed to be just an excuse for people to wear the least amount of clothing possible but with a holiday theme.

Michelle didn’t care - more power to them if that girl by the snacks wanted to wear a barely there candy cane striped mini-skirt and some guy dancing in the middle of the room wasn’t wearing a shirt at all, his only covering being some kind of Rudolph inspired Speedo. 

It was ridiculous. It was college. Michelle had seen worse things.

But it did nothing to improve her mood about being there, the overzealous holiday cheer wrapped up in alcohol fused horniess just making her want to throw up.

It reminded her of the paper she hadn’t finished and the argument she’d had in their last class about love being nothing but a chemical reaction. 

By then most of the people in the small class had come to expect Michelle’s snarky comments but that had been a comment too far, hearing the sigh from across the room as she argued against some stanza Keats had written.

He had argued that love - no matter how long it lasted - was worth it, a bonding between two people. A commitment, uniting people despite their differences.

She had argued back that he was mistaking love for endorphins, the only bonding that happened being a result of unresolved sexual tension.

He’d rolled his eyes. She had done the same. 

Michelle pushed the memory out of her head, of the almost tense showdown between the two of them when Michelle had finally said that anyone who imagined themselves in love were only fooling themselves until before professor Barnes had finally called the class to order and changed the subject.

Yet it was as if the memory of that conversation conjured up her debate partner into reality, glancing around to see none other than Peter Parker walking up to her with the cheesiest smile on his face.

“Michelle Jones, fancy meeting you here—“

“Fuck off, Parker. I’m not in the mood.” 

Peter just snorted, mirroring her stance as he leans against the other side of the pillar.

“Come on, MJ. Where’s your holiday spirit?”

Michelle rolls her eyes but the smirk on her face gives her away, hating how easily the people in her life were able to read her. She prided herself on being aloof - untouchable and above it all.

But just like with Betty, she couldn’t hide the truth from him.

She’d never been able to hide how she felt when she was around Peter Parker.

* * *

Michelle met Peter Parker for the first time on the first day, in her first class of the semester her freshman year.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him, but it was the first time they met - watching as he slid into the seat next to her in their gen ed government class.

She could still remember the way he smiled at her, the way his hair looked - as if he’d just gotten up - and the chaotic mess that was his backpack, half zipped and a pen almost falling out when he set it down.

Michelle went to grab it but she was too slow, only to be surprised that Peter caught it with ease - catching her eye as she stared at him.

“Quick reflexes.” She had commented, Peter’s eyes widening for a bit for settling into a warm smile.

“Yeah,” he’d answered, “Always been pretty good with my hands.”

Michelle raised an eyebrow and Peter blanched, holding back a laugh as he started to stammer.

“I mean, that’s not— I didn’t mean it like—“

She watched in silence as he opened his mouth then closed it, scrunching his eyes together as he groaned.

“Can we try again?”

“I didn’t know we had started anything.” Michelle answered, Peter opening his eyes and laughing despite himself.

“I guess you’re right.” He replied, eyeing her up and down before smiling again.

“I’m Peter by the way.”

Michelle nodded her head, trying out the nickname she’d given herself before saying, “MJ.”

He extended a hand out, Michelle glancing to it for a second for meeting his eyes, the retort out of her mouth before she can stop it.

“What, you gonna show me what you can do with it?”

She immediately wants to die - right there, on the spot - cursing her smart mouth and her existence. Only for Peter to laugh, a deep-belly laugh that made a few people turn around in the massive auditorium. 

Michelle wants to shrink into her seat at the sudden attention but then she catches Peter’s eyes again and feels herself grin despite the situation.

“Forget I said anything.” She whispers, Peter just smiling even wider as he leaned in.

“Wait what were we talking about?”

Michelle rolled her eyes, the professor walked in and the conversation ended.

But Michelle couldn’t help but notice how Peter stared at her, catching him doing so twice while she doodled all over the syllabus. 

“What?” She whispered.

”What what?” He’d whispered back, Michelle rolling her eyes as he smiled.

”Do I have something on my face?” 

“No.” It’s the only answer she gets then, Peter turning his attention back to his own paper.

But she could see the way his ears burned red, staring back at him till he cracked a smile. 

He was cute, she didn’t mind if he wanted to stare.

Especially when she had been the one to stare at him first.

* * *

Michelle met Peter Parker for the first time on the first day, in her first class of the semester her freshman year.

But the first time she actually saw him had been a week before - moving in to her dorm room, catching a glimpse of him down the hall.

Her mom had been chattering about something in the background, her dad frowning as he looked around the room - no doubt judging the space and the roommate who hadn’t shown up yet. 

Michelle had stepped out into the hall, just to catch her breath - the nerves and the excitement of finally being in college catching up to her.

It felt as if she’d spent her whole life building up to this moment, to the four years when she’d finally get the chance to make something of herself. 

The kids back home in Chicago had given her shit for moving to the east coast, for her dreams of applying to schools none of them even dreamed of going to.

Chicago was big but Michelle was aiming for bigger - thinking that a fresh start in another state was exactly what she needed to get a fresh start.

It was exhilarating, finally being here - in New York, moving in to a dorm, ready to take on the world and rid herself of her previous life as Michelle Jones.

She’d been taking it all in, watching as other excited and nervous students moved in when she saw him - doing a double take as he walked past her in the hall.

He looked fairly unremarkable from behind, jeans and a shirt on - converse that looked like they had seen better days. 

But it was the way he laughed that caught her attention, a sound that felt warm and inviting - intriguing since she wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard someone sound as light and as carefree as this strange guy did.

Michelle would be let it go just then, reminding herself that she didn’t come to college for a guy or girl or anyone else that could distract her from her goals.

But then he’d turned around, the massive amount of boxes in his arms throwing her off - the easy way he had shifted their weight from one hand to the other, opening the closed door down the hall and then disappearing.

It had been fleeting - passing - and yet Michelle had been immediately intrigued, wondering what the hell was in those boxes that he’d been able to move them with ease. 

“Michelle?” Her mom’s voice had called in from the room, bringing her out of her thoughts. 

“What?” She turned to look back at her for a second, glancing back at the mysterious boy only for him to be gone.

* * *

The next time she saw Peter had been in the laundry room, realizing it was the same guy because of his laugh.

She saw him again in the campus bookstore. Again on her way to the student union.

But it wasn’t until that first day of class that she had actually had the chance to meet him and catch his name. 

There was something about him, something she couldn’t put her finger on that intrigued her but she pushed it away, thinking that she’d had enough of being known as the quiet, weirdly observant girl anymore.

College was the time for reinvention and Michelle was going to take advantage of it.

But then there he was - sitting right beside her in class, with the kind of ease and friendliness that only came from being secure in himself. 

“What are you thinking about?” Peter asked, the obnoxious remixed Christmas music still playing in the background - his question bringing her out of her memories. 

Michelle looks at him, seeing the smirk on his face before she said, “Oh you know, just regretting the day I met you. Like always.”

“Like always, obviously.” He replies, the light catching on to his “Let’s get lit” Hanukkah sweater. It was just as obnoxious as she had expected from him, even if she hadn’t realized he’d be at this party.

“Don’t you have better things to do than stalk your me on a Saturday night? Go find Ned and bug him.”

Peter unfurls a hand, pointing in the opposite direction. “I think Ned’s a little busy.”

Michelle follows where his finger is pointing towards only to sigh, realizing that Betty had gotten distracted but with the wrong person - making out with Ned in the other corner.

She tilts her head, shaking it as she said, “When will they learn? This is what, the fifth time they’ve done this?”

“This month, maybe. I lost count for the semester.”

Michelle snickers, rolling her eyes. “The definition of on again, off again. I hate them.”

“No you don’t.” Peter jokes, Michelle smiling as she does.

“No, I don’t. But it just further proves my point from class.”

Peter rolls his eyes now, throwing his hands up. “We’re at a party, MJ. Don’t bring this shit up again.”

“Love is a chemical reaction, a mix of endorphins and serotonin. 

“I’m not doing this with you.” 

Michelle puts a hand out, motioning towards the crowd of dancers in the center of the room.

“Leave then. Bye.”

But he doesn’t, just as Michelle had expected he wouldn’t - just folding his arms together, leaning against the pillar and giving her a sideways glance.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily, MJ.”

Michelle smirks, rolling her eyes once more.

“Trust me, I know that by now.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“How long do you think until they come up for air?”

Michelle snorts, sneaking a sideways glance at Peter who is steadily staring back at Ned and Betty, Michelle following his gaze.

They’d been going at it for the past fifteen minutes, off and on, to the point where Michelle’s convinced herself that any plan Betty had about making a move with anyone else was long gone.

They always did this, Michelle wondering why Betty and Ned broke up if they were only to go back and forth in an endless loop of hooking up at whatever party or social event or random weekend hangout only to ignore each other for another two weeks. 

“I give it another ten minutes before Betty’s lips get chapped. Ned’ll probably say the wrong thing and then they’ll have an argument outside in,” Michelle raises her hand, Peter snickering as she pantomimed glancing at the watch she didn’t have, “like twenty-seven minutes?”

“Followed by angry makeup sex later tonight.” Peter supplies, Michelle nodding in agreement.

“Definitely. It’s like clockwork honestly.” She turns to him again, Peter just smiling at the two of them - the smart remark she had dying in her throat until she lets out something almost like a huff.

Peter looks at her then, a little confused before his eyebrows raised. “What?”

“You think this shit is cute don’t you?”

Peter purses his lips, Michelle knowing him well enough to recognize that he was trying not to lie about what he was thinking while still not giving Michelle the satisfaction of being right.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“MJ--”

“Look at them, Peter. Look,” Michelle gestures to them, seeing them start to grab at each other again as she says, “this isn’t healthy.”

“Consensual sex between two adults is--”

“Don’t even start, you know that’s not what I’m saying.” Michelle interjects, catching the stupid smirk on Peter’s face. “They should just be friends with benefits at this point. I don’t know why they keep doing this little dance, back and forth like they’re gonna officially get back together when they’re not. This isn’t love, they’re just horny.”

The music changes from a remixed White Christmas to Baby, It’s Cold Outside, the song further aggravating her as Peter replies. 

“It’s not that simple, MJ.”

“It really is. They like having sex with each other, they don’t actually like each other,” Michelle says, staring at Peter as she continues, “If I have to hear Betty say that she loves him one more time…”

“You’ll listen and not say a word,” Peter answers, Michelle sighing as he says, “Because you may believe that love is bullshit, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to kill someone else’s dreams.”

“How can I, when I have you there as my moral compass?” Michelle answers sarcastically, Peter smiling as the lights reflect off his sweater again. 

“You know me. Moral compass for the masses.”

Michelle says nothing, just smiling in response.

* * *

Michelle and Peter became fast friends after that first day. 

He got her number, some kind of joke about needing help with his notes - Michelle sniping back that she didn’t exist to help some white boy pass his classes.

But she’d smiled when she’d said it and Peter had grinned, Michelle thinking that it was just as exhilarating to see as his laugh. 

The first year passed by quickly, the adjustment to college being difficult and easy all at once. Michelle had never been suited for high school, had never been suited for Chicago.

Being in New York felt almost like coming home. 

It helped that even though Michelle started to make more friends in her classes, that having her first friend be Peter seemingly set off a chain reaction - introducing her to his friends but also giving her the kind of hope that college would be everything she wanted it to be and more. 

Peter was funny, if a little weird - not really paying attention in class, fingers always tapping against the desk attached to the lecture chair and head twitching as if he’d heard something when to Michelle’s knowledge, nothing had happened. 

But he was also fun to be around, the kind of person that she wanted to be more like - shedding her old high school reputation little by little the more she was around him and the more she allowed herself to become someone that felt a little more like the person she always was.

When the time came to choose classes for the next semester, Michelle knew it was inevitable for them to separate but she found that she didn’t want to - her unbearable fascination with Peter Parker motivating her to ask if they wanted to schedule their next gen ed together. 

Just as she’d expected, Peter had been into it - excited in a way that made her heart skip a beat, swallowing that down as it being excitement over a new friend.

* * *

“Did you get into Gingza’s humanities class?” Peter asked, shivering slightly as he sat down across from her in their favorite coffee shop, starting to shed the layers he had on. 

It was a little hole in the wall, a place Michelle would’ve loved to have found on her phone had it not been for Peter’s suggestion - taking his city knowledge in stride as she glanced over her laptop.

“Nah, got into Gordon’s.”

Peter paused as he took off a glove, Michelle keeping her face neutral as he frowned.

“Aw man, I thought you said Gingza’s. They’re both full now, I wish I would’ve know.”

Michelle’s touched by his sincerity, thinking they were good enough friends now that they didn’t have to be in class together. But she can’t torture him any longer, rolling her eyes as he takes off another glove - noting how many layers he had on.

“I’m just messing with you. I’m in Gingza’s.”

Peter’s face broke out into a smile, one that Michelle return it as he threw out a hand for a high five.

“Awesome, MJ.”

Michelle studied the hand, Peter giving her a look to not leave him hanging before smiling back, high fiving him before shaking her head.

“You’re such a loser.”

Peter laughed, the sound still lighting up Michelle’s whole being as he winked. 

“And yet you still can’t get rid of me.” 

And as his laughter carrier throughout the coffee shop, all Michelle could think was that she never really wanted to.

* * *

The music from the party is starting to get even more aggravating, Ned and Betty having gotten lost in the crowd and her and Peter migrating towards the snack table. 

“Look,” Peter points to a brownie that Michelle’s about ninety-percent certain is laced with something a little stronger than holiday cheer as he grins, bringing it up to his face. “It has a menorah on it.” 

“I doubt that’s gonna be kosher, Pete.” He smirks, sniffing it before taking a bite, Michelle raising an eyebrow.

“You know that’s--”

But she doesn’t even get to finish her sentence, Peter making a face as he chews it. He studies it for a second before shrugging, popping the rest of it into his mouth as she rolls her eyes. 

“I thought you were supposed to be a moral compass.”

“A moral compass can take a night off. It’s Christmas.” Peter says, pointing to the cheesy Christmas decorations around them, Michelle’s eyes landing on the cardboard cutout of mistletoe that was hanging a little crooked above them. 

Peter cleary saw it but chose to ignore it, Michelle equal parts thankful for it and a little disappointed - a ridiculous thought that she pushes away. 

“You don’t even celebrate Christmas.” Michelle replies.

Peter shrugs as he says, “Doesn’t mean I can’t get into the holiday spirit.” 

Michelle just rolls her eyes, glancing around the party.

“Where do you think our lovebirds ran off to?”

Peter gets that look on his face, a faraway one that reminds Michelle of the batshit theory that she has about him - one that she knows is ridiculous even if Peter looking like that, almost like he was listening for them - only furthering her suspicions.

“I’m… not sure we want to know.” He finally answers, getting an almost embarrassed look on his face before transforming it into one of nonchalance. “I mean you said it yourself. They probably went out to argue then jumped to the angry make-up sex.” 

Michelle just stares at him, to the point where he finally looks back at her. 

“You think something’s wrong?”

Michelle shakes her head, pushing it away as she shrugs in response.

“No. If you don’t think so then,” she grabs a brownie too, Peter smiling in disbelief as she takes a bite, “I trust you.” 

* * *

She did trust Peter, with her life.

Trusting Peter with her life didn’t happen overnight, even if their friendship had seemed to happen that way. 

But even if she trusted Peter the person, she also trusted that there was something else going on with Peter. Something that he clearly hadn’t told people about, though she had a suspicion that Ned was in on it too. 

It was a terrible theory, a ridiculous one. But she held it close, let it simmer in the back of her mind the more and more they spent time together. 

Michelle had known that something was going on with Peter from the moment she’d met him - saw him, really - but she couldn’t put a finger to it. 

Peter was always distracted - in class, in coffee shops, walking down the street. Always on edge, something that she would almost attribute to some kind of nervous energy if it didn’t set off something else in her gut. 

Back home in Chicago, she’d never had much luck with friends - of any type - but a guy like Peter was exactly the kind of person that Michelle had secretly always wanted to know. 

The kind of guy who could waltz into a room and blend in, yet within minutes - or so it seemed to her - had a knack for knowing who to talk to and how to make conversation with someone.

To anyone else, it probably would’ve sounded like a crush. But it wasn’t, Michelle had been over that from high school - the only kind of real love she’d ever seen being from her parents, but even that hadn’t been without struggle.

She pushed those thoughts away as being ridiculous, thinking that her fascination with Peter had nothing to do with the stereotypical reasons but everything to do with his personality. 

It was something Michelle attributed to being a native New Yorker and growing up with the Avengers in your metaphorical backyard.

Michelle didn’t really care about the Avengers - as a concept, much less as reality - but there was still something fascinating about how nonsensical New Yorkers seemed to approach the world around them.

As if aliens dropping out into the middle of the sky was just something to complain about with equal annoyance as the MTA running late or their favorite coffee shop’s lines being too long. 

It was the same kind of approach to life that Peter had, one that she’d envied to an extent - especially in how it informed his view of the world. 

* * *

“I don’t get it, Parker.” 

Peter snickered, Michelle eyeing the burger and fries that he was eating. It was some kind of triple meat monstrosity, one that made her wonder where the hell Peter was going to put it considering how skinny he was but she didn’t question it considering her theories - seeing him eat that and a hell of a lot more during their lunch meetings semester. 

If freshman year was about getting used to college, sophomore year was about getting out of the slump. 

And Michelle thought that was best done with her friendship with Peter.

“You don’t get it because you don’t want to, MJ.” Peter counters before taking a massive bite of said burger, Michelle tapping a chopstick against the bowl in front of her. 

“Life’s shit and then you die. You know this. I know this. I don’t understand how you could’ve gone through the things you did and just…” Michelle trails off, seeing the way something passes over Peter’s eyes. 

By now she knew about his parents and about his uncle, remembering the late night study session for that awful humanities class that had led to them spilling secrets to each other at 2am in a quiet library.

She hadn’t gotten much studying done that night for class, but it did seem now that it gave her more than she could’ve ever expected about Peter.

That he’d been orphaned at seven. Lost his second father figure at fourteen. 

That he’d been dusted and brought back, another loss lingering in the background that Michelle didn’t press about - not when she’d been dusted herself and had known what that did to a person. 

That despite everything, Peter seemed to still approach with life with a kind of positivity that just didn’t make sense to her, holding the kind of optimism that she would’ve expected was an act had it not been for the length of time that she knew him now. 

“You can’t look at the bad stuff and only focus on that, MJ. You just can’t.” Peter says, a slight edge in his voice - not in anger but more like he was trying to hold something down, Michelle regretting bringing up the topic now from the glassy look in his eyes as he reached for a fry.

“I didn’t mean--”

“I know what you’re saying. I know that life… isn’t always fair.” Peter says, eyes firmly on his plate until he meets hers - giving a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “But life’s not supposed to be fair, MJ. It’s just life. It’s up to us to decide how we live in you know?”

Michelle doesn’t agree, has a lot more to say but holds her tongue - knowing from the look on Peter’s face that he’s struggling to hold back tears. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Peter answers, shaking himself as he reaches for his burger again. “I’m not saying you have to agree with me.”

He gets a stupid smirk on his face as he holds his burger in his hand as he says, “Yet.” 

Michelle rolls her eyes as he takes a bite, taking the moment of levity for what it was - a distraction and a sidestep away from the emotions that Peter is still clearly dealing with, something she wants to know but what doesn’t feel right pushing now. 

“Bold of you to assume that I’m ever going to agree with you.” 

Peter just chews his food, a knowing look on his face. She watches as he chews his food, swallows and then rolls his eyes. 

“Bold of you to think you never will.”

* * *

“I think I’m gonna head home.”

Peter sighed. “Come on MJ, it’s a party. Have some fun.”

Michelle just gave him a look, seeing the stupid smirk on his face. 

“I still have that stupid paper for ER to write. And before you say anything, no, I don’t want your help.”

Peter shrugs his shoulders. “Ok, I won’t say anything.”

He bobs his head to the music, Michelle watching as he winces slightly - the music being unbelievably loud to her ears making her wonder how much it affected him, if her theories were right. 

But she pushed that away for now, tilting her head as she asks, “Did you finish yours already?”

Peter turns to her, a smile on his face as he says, “Finished mine three weeks ago.”

Michelle can’t help the jaw drop, wondering how the hell Peter “please can I have an extension” Parker actually got an assignment done early.

“How the hell—“

Peter shrugs again, cutting her off as he says, “Easy topic, MJ. Just cause you think Keats was an idiot doesn’t mean—“

“He was.” Michelle interrupts, “He wrote a few stanzas about some girl he liked and because he died, he’s immortalized forever as this great romantic?”

Peter’s heard the spiel before but let’s her continue, shoving his hand in his pockets as she says, “There’s nothing romantic about dying before you can love someone.”

“So you do think love is possible?” Peter asks, Michelle narrowing her eyes.

“I think love is a choice that’s been reconstructed as a concept that no person can actually live up to.” Michelle threw her hands up.

”Keats projected all these fantasies onto Fanny and for what? What if he’d lived? Would she really have been able to live up to the fantasy that he’d created in his head?”

Peter gets a thoughtful look, pursing his lips as Michelle folds her arms. They’d had this argument before - or at least something similar - over and over again. 

But she plays along, waiting as Peter says, “That’s not what his poetry is supposed to mean, MJ. You’re being too literal.”

“How else am I supposed to take it then?” She asks, understanding the point of poetry but intensely curious to Peter’s reasoning since he found new ways to argue with her anytime they talked about this.

“Keats was a romantic, they all were but,” Peter sighs, eyes on the dance floor as he says, “The love he had for Fanny was only magnified because of the limited time he had you know? And just because he wrote things about her that she could never live up to, that wasn’t the point. It’s not about living up to a fantasy.”

Michelle unfolds her arms, watching Peter as he turns to face her - an unreadable expression on his face.

“No one can ever live up to the image that you’ve created in your head but that’s not the point of love. Not real love anyway. And yeah they didn’t have forever but it’s not even about that.” Peter smiles, Michelle recognizing that it doesn’t reach his eyes as he continues. 

“Love isn’t about the time you have with someone but about what you create when you do have them.” Peter shrugs once more.

“I don’t know, MJ. I think that’s a love worth dying for.” 

“Isn’t it better to have a love with living for?” Michelle asks, Peter laughing as he nods.

“Yeah, maybe. But you don’t believe in it anyway, so what’s the point right?”

Michelle says nothing, Peter turning back to the crowd.

“We can go if you want. I’m just saying,” Peter says, eyes still firmly on the crowd as she stares back at him, “I think love is a lot more complex than you give it credit for.” 


	3. Chapter 3

“What are you thinking about?” Peter asks for a second time, Michelle shrugging her shoulders as they made their way out of the warehouse. 

They’d left soon after the conversation about Keats, Michelle not really having a rebuttal and being too tired to really reason why. 

She’d told Peter that he hadn’t needed to leave with her, that she was perfectly fine walking home by herself, but Peter - being who he was - insisted. 

“Nothing really.” Michelle answers, her mind wandering through the memories of the past few years. 

* * *

By junior year, they had no real reason to take classes together anymore - Peter settling on mechanical engineering and Michelle on sociology. The ran out of gen eds to take together but she glad they both had electives. Peter seemed to like being in a classroom with her just as much as she liked being in one with him, to the point where they made a silly pact to take at least one class together each semester.

It shouldn’t have worked - not after they were out of gen eds - but they made it work, finding some kind of common ground and the chance to have a reason to hang out every week beyond the actual friendship that they had.

On some level, Michelle knew that having classes together was borne more out of their want to spend time together - something that Betty had argued _clearly_ meant something more.

Michelle dismissed it, as she always did - considering that her and Peter weren’t just friends, but had even gotten each other dates. 

The fact that those dates never really went anywhere wasn’t something she dwelled too much on either. 

* * *

“How’d everything go with Brad last night?” Peter asks suggestively, plopping down on her bed as she shrugs.

“Unlike you, I don’t kiss and tell, Peter.”

“So you _did_ kiss him then? Is that all you did?” He asks, Michelle smirking as she rolls her eyes. 

“You really want to know? Cause if so, you might want to rethink sitting sitting on my bed.”

Peter’s eyes widen, embarrassed almost before he grins, saying, “Damn MJ. Well not that you asked but—“

“I didn’t.” Michelle interjects, Peter continuing anyway.

“But things with Gwen went great for me too.” 

Peter leaves it that, clearly inviting for her to ask him more questions but she doesn’t - content to leave him squirming since she knew how much it bothered him when she didn’t. 

And the fact that she didn’t particularly want to hear all about how Peter rocked Gwen’s world, for reasons she didn’t care to admit to herself - much less to him. 

“Yeah well, good for you.” Michelle finally answers, hearing Peter’s snicker as she glanced over to him. 

“She’s great, MJ. I think you’d really like her if you gave her the chance.”

“I like her just fine, Peter.” Michelle sighs, rolling her eyes as she opens up her laptop. “What I don’t like is that look on your face.”

“What?” He quirks an eyebrow up, tilting his head slightly as she turns to face him from her desk. 

“Like you’ve just found the love of your life or something. Just cause you two had good sex doesn’t mean you’re in love with her.” 

Something passes over Peter’s eyes for a moment, something Michelle doesn’t recognize before he shakes his head. “Whoever said I was in love with her?”

“Aren’t you? You haven’t shut up about her since you two met. I would’ve thought you’ve picked out the wedding invitations by now.” Michelle says as she turns her attention back to her laptop. 

She’s being a little ridiculous, but it was part of a larger point. It was part of an on-going argument, if you could even call it that of theirs, about Peter and his unequivocal belief in love.

Michelle knew by now that Peter was a serial monogamist - the back and forth with Felicia their first year that ended in heartbreak, the three-month relationship their sophomore year with a guy named Johnny who’d been bad news since the moment Peter had met him. 

And now Gwen, a nice person from what little Michelle knew of her - unbelievably gorgeous and ridiculously smart - the exact kind of person that Michelle could imagine Peter would end up with someday, if she believed in that sort of thing. 

She liked her fine and if Peter ended up staying with her, Michelle could accept it. But she’d seen him run through too many relationships by this point, imagining himself in love with all of them, to really believe that he would.

Every time Michelle was flabbergasted that Peter seemed to be a little in love with each of them, wondering on some level if it was fake or exaggerated even if she knew Peter well enough to know by now that it wasn’t. 

Peter gets a look on his face, Michelle knowing him well enough to recognize that he’s almost hurt by the insinuation, that he somehow _knows_ what she’s thinking about him.

She’s not trying to hurt him, nor does she really want to dive in what she thinks about love right now considering the look on his, waving a hand as she says, “Whatever, Peter. I don’t care.”

When he doesn’t answer still, she looks back at him - his face a mix of emotions that she can’t place before it turns into a smirk. 

“What makes you say we had good sex?” 

Michelle rolls her eyes, not taking the bait to stroke his ego but recognizing his question for what it is, a diversion. 

“You’re friends with me, Pete. And anyone friends with me is, by default, good at everything.”

Peter grins, shrugging his shoulders. “We’re gonna get back to that later but,” he sighs, “do you really think that way about me?”

From his tone he seems to be playing it off but Michelle can tell that he’s serious about what he’s asking, tilting her head as she asks, “Think what way?”

“Like I’m,” Peter waves a hand around, “I don’t know, stupid for loving people or something?”

Michelle bites her lip, not wanting to offend him but also wondering why he was so willing to throw himself out there with people only to get hurt time and time again. 

“You’re not _stupid_ , Pete. A dumbass maybe,” Peter laughs as she continues, “but not stupid.”

Peter just stares at her, an unreadable expression on his face as she says, “I don’t believe in it, but if you want to keep throwing yourself out there, I won’t stop you.” 

* * *

Just like with all the people before, Gwen had been something of a firework - a fiery blast that brightened up Peter’s life and had left scorch marks when she was gone. 

It’d been a messy breakup, remembering how broken up Peter had been about it - coming over and laying down on her and Betty’s living room floor, drinking a seemingly endless amount of beer even it didn’t seem to have any effect on him.

Messy enough that now, halfway through senior year - Peter hadn’t been dated anyone sense, not seriously from what she could tell, spending most of his free time with her. 

It didn’t make sense for her, especially considering the argument they’d had in class the other day - for Peter to still be such a fervent believer in love when it was something that had only burned him time and time again. 

From all Michelle could see, love was just chemicals and bullshit - the kind of thing that only worked in the most rarest of exceptions, for the most exceptional reasons - Michelle always waiting for the bottom to fall through. 

But it’s the kind of conversation she doesn’t feel like having with Peter now, exhausted in a way that had little to do with finals and the paper she had due but everything to do with the prospect of graduation and everything that would mean. 

“You sure?” Peter asks, quiet as they walk down the dark street. 

“Yeah,” Michelle is quick to reply. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

And she was - fine, even if the thought of their impending graduation - even if it was months away - made her think of all the things that she’d never get to tease Peter about in the future. 

Of all the hookups and relationships that he would inevitably have - running face forward, throwing himself into love, only to be inevitably burned. 

Of the late night study sessions they wouldn’t get to have anymore, late night Netflix binges and getting tacos at the taco stand by that creepy bodega they both liked. 

Of the friendship that she’d come to rely on so much that it almost scared her, thinking that even if she didn’t believe in love and relationships that she did believe in Peter - and the idea of not having him in her life anymore made her feel sad and melancholy in a way that she wasn’t really wanting to get into.

Of moving out of New York, moving anywhere without Peter - her best friend in every sense of the word, thinking that even if she didn’t believe in romantic love that she could admit that she loved him - as one of the most important people in her life. 

But even if she didn’t want to talk about that or about love, she also couldn’t help but think that maybe it was for the best anyway - considering that Peter had been her friend, her best friend, for almost four years and hadn’t told her his biggest secret - something she was about sixty-seven percent sure was true. 

It hurt to think about - how much she trusted him, how much she loved him as a best friend, but that he hadn’t shared the one thing that Michelle was convinced of. 

“You don’t sound--“

Peter stops, back straightening as he glances around. 

“What’s—” Michelle begins only for Peter’s hands to cover her mouth, rushing her into an alleyway so fast that she barely has time to make sense of her surroundings - immediately aware of how close he is, pressed up against her and his eyes boring into hers. 

His eyes are locked on hers, a silent plea in them to trust him - something that Michelle instantly does even if a shot of fear runs through her at the idea that there was something Peter was aware of that she wasn’t.

Because this was the thing he _hadn’t_ trusted her with - even if she trusted him with almost everything - something they never talked about and something that for all her bravado, she’d never been brave enough to ask him about. 

That Peter was _Spider-Man_ , the most ridiculous thing she could ever imagine to be true. And yet now, with his hand over her mouth and closer to her than he’d ever been, feeling her heartbeat pound in her ears Michelle begins to let herself really believe in it. 

It made too much sense, all the little weird things about Peter adding up that seemed too much like a coincidence to not be true. 

On some level, Michelle wondered if that somehow contributed to none of his relationships working out, a small sense of relief that he hadn’t shared his biggest secret with anyone else even if that would’ve explained his frequent absences or having to leave so quickly. 

She can hear the drunken guys past, the lilt of their voices and their laughter making her wonder why Peter had been so quick to hide the two of them.

Michelle had seen Spider-Man in action, more times than she could count now, watching while she held her breath when Peter would mysteriously leave class only to get an alert that Spider-Man was fighting some villain twenty minutes later. 

Two or three drunk guys in an alley shouldn’t be enough to be cause for alarm, but Michelle wasn’t going to argue - her mind racing to consider the possibilities of why Peter had looked so afraid until their laughter receded as they made their way past. 

Peter quickly brought his hand down, an apology all over face.

“Sorry, sorry.” He whispers, the tension in his shoulders releasing as he steps back - Michelle letting herself breathe after realizing how close he’d been. 

Her heart is racing - from fear, adrenaline or something else, she wasn’t sure - Peter scrunching his eyes together as if he could hear it as he says, “I’m sorry, MJ. I thought--”

“It’s fine.” She finally croaks out, wincing as she does so for how shaken up she wounds. “You good?” 

Michelle knows she isn’t acting rationally, that if she didn’t know his secret that she would be a lot more curious. But she does, even if Peter doesn’t know it, and he seems too rattled to register that she’s not responding as she normally would. 

Peter nods quickly, turning his head slightly to the direction that the guys were headed. 

She could see it on his face - from knowing _Peter_ but also knowing who Spider-Man was - that he wanted to go after them, an irrational panic that he was going to fling himself into danger for no good reason. 

But just as quickly as the look on his face appears it leaves, Peter seemingly pushing it down in favor of looking back at her.

“Yeah I’m fine, I’m sorry, MJ. Just got a weird vibe. You know how people get around the holidays.”

Michelle doesn’t quite believe him, but she just nods before saying, “It’s okay just-- let’s just go home.” 

He looks at her like he knows she doesn’t believe him but says nothing, sighing as she starts to walk down the street again - Peter falling into step with her. 

* * *

By the time Michelle gets back to the apartment that she shares with Betty, knowing it would be quiet and empty since they always found themselves at Ned’s when they hooked up -she’s not in the mood to write her paper. 

She has to, it’s something she’d been telling herself that she’d do when she got home. But the night in the alleyway rattled her - the party and her memories of everything just blending together to make her feel the kind of emotions that she’d spend years trying to explain as something else. 

It was adrenaline, she knew that - leftover anxiety from the stress of her paper and from the weird encounter in the alleyway, pushing out of her mind how it’d felt to have Peter pressed up against her, to have his rough hands on her mouth and to see something that mixed with fear and determination in his eyes.

He’d been quiet the rest of the way home, dropping her off and rushing off - to the point where when Michelle glanced back, he was already gone - confirming what she’d already guessed he would do. 

Spider-Man didn’t deal in the same kind of vigilante justice that others she read about did but Michelle wasn’t surprised that he left as quickly as he did.

Whatever the guys did or said, Michelle wasn’t sure how it worked - it was enough to spook Peter, for him to be almost scared not necessarily of them, but that she was there with them. 

Michelle opens up her laptop, pushing that out of her mind for now - knowing if she thought too much about the thing Peter was doing, she’d stress herself out. She changes out of her sweater and into something a little more comfortable than the outfit she’d had on, sitting back down on her bed. 

The night had been weird all around, a disaster from the beginning. Michelle wasn’t going to let herself dwell anymore on it, or about whatever had happened with Peter, when she had to psyche herself up to write an essay about a subject that she didn’t believe in in the first place. 

Michelle almost thought to call Peter, knowing that even if he said he wouldn’t - he’d joke with her before talking her through it. 

But she had a suspicion that she couldn’t deny that he was busy in a way that he clearly hadn’t trusted her with enough to share, not even years after knowing her. 

Emotions were just signals in the brain, working together to facilitate a mental and physical reaction to the stimuli of a situation.

And yet it still hurt something in her heart that they could be as good friends as they were and that Peter would still refuse to tell her the truth. 

* * *

Michelle had only encountered Spider-Man personally once before. 

For as much as he was around the city and all over the news, the only time she’d ever seen him in person was at the beginning of senior year, walking back from one of the classes she was taking.

It was a dual-credit Masters level course, a discussion of race and politics that she loved. But the only thing she didn’t love was how late it was, finding her way back home at eleven at night. 

Michelle had been distracted, from the music playing in one of her headphones but also from the conversation from class - about hope and optimism and balancing that with a realistic approach to policy.

It was something she knew Peter would get a kick out of, bringing out her phone to text him. She stepped out into the crosswalk, head down on her phone only to immediately be flung backwards - jerked back by something pulling her.

The car that passed by - one that she hadn’t even heard coming - surprised her but it was the motion that surprised her more, looking back to see Spider-Man perched on the streetlight.

They stared at each other for a beat - Michelle wanting to say thank you but feeling like it wouldn’t be enough. 

And Spider-Man said nothing, just confirming for her in a different way who was under the mask - knowing that she would be able to pick up his voice in an instant. 

Before she can say anything, he lets go of the web - saluting her before sending a hand out to swing away.

Michelle knew from stories that Spider-Man never shut up in public and in knowing Peter, it made sense. 

But for him to be so silent, seemingly watching out for her even when she hadn’t even known her was there - made her wonder how often he watched out for her.

Though this was only tempered by the reality that even if he did, it just made Peter keeping his secret from her even worse.

* * *

  
  
Loud knocking woke her up. She wasn’t sure of the time, her laptop having died or either gone to sleep - her neck hurting from how it’s awkwardly cradled on the mattress. 

Michelle felt disoriented, like she’d been dragged out of a deep sleep and looked around to figure out why - only to glance towards the window and see him.

Spider-Man, standing on the fire escape against the window of her apartment, one hand on the window and another crossed against his middle section.

She immediately jumps up, rushing towards it - knowing whatever it is has to be bad if he’s here.

Spider-Man - _Peter, it’s Peter_ \- is tapping against the window, almost absentmindedly now. His head was resting against the window, the other hand not so lightly tapping against the window itself.

Michelle taps her own hands against the window to let him know she’s going to open it and he moves his head, fear shooting through her chest at how disoriented he was.

As soon as the window, Peter almost stumbles in - Michelle having to catch him as she shudders, feeling how warm he is even though it was freezing outside. 

Michelle’s breath hitches as she tries and fails to gently lay him down on the floor, eyes widening as she saw the dark red staining his midsection as she leaves him for just a second to shut the window so the cold air stayed outside.

“I’m—I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Ma’am. I—“ Peter hisses, Michelle realizing that he must’ve made the trip to her apartment on autopilot, the memory of when he’d shown up after his breakup with Gwen rushing back to her mind.

“What happened?” Michelle asked, knowing this was crazy - knowing that to Peter, he’d just stumbled into a stranger’s apartment - even if Michelle knew the truth about him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“ He groans as she presses down on the wound in his gut, her hands shaking slightly as she looks into the white eyes of his mask.

It occurred to her then that her theory could be completely ridiculous, that her mind and imagination could’ve run away from her and that there really was just a strange man bleeding on her bedroom floor.

But staring into them, a hand pressed down onto his gut, Michelle knows as well as she knows anything that it’s Peter underneath the mask.

He stays still as Michelle reaches up, her free hand hovering over the mask. He can probably stop her but she doesn’t, feeling around his neck and his chin until she can grab the underside of it, lifting it slightly.

He brings a hand up - to stop her, Michelle feeling hurt that even now, clearly coming to her apartment as Spider-Man - hurt and in pain - that he would try and hide his identity, only for his head to shake as he reached up and tore the mask off himself.

Michelle stares into Peter’s eyes, the confirmation she hadn’t really needed hanging in the air just as the thick silence draped over them. She’s brought out of it, when he winces again, Michelle bringing both hands down to where he’s bleeding from.

The blood is getting all over her floor, a distant thought wondering how the hell she was going to clean it up but she’s more focused on Peter now - at the revelation of who he is and the fact that he is still injured. 

“What happened?” She asks again, a little more forcefully this time. 

Peter shakes his head, blinking a few times in surprise. “You— you’re not—“

“I figured it out a long time ago, Peter.” Michelle interjects, unable to hide the bite in her tone. “We can talk more about it when you’re not actively bleeding out on the floor.”

Peter lets out something that sounds like a mix between a laugh and a groan, adjusting himself slightly as he glances around her room.

“I knew Betty would be with Ned and she doesn’t— she doesn’t know.” He winces again, though from the realization of the insane thing they’re talking about or how much pain he’s in, she didn’t know.

“Your place was closer. It’s too cold, I didn’t— I didn’t think I’d make it home without passing out.”

“I don’t think you would’ve either.” Michelle murmurs, adjusting her grip to see Peter’s wound before pressing down on it again.

“Shit, it’s deep. I think I have some gauze in the bathroom. Can you,” she glances back into his eyes, a storm brewing behind them as she continues, “can you try not to pass out for five more minutes?”

Peter nods, seeing the pain in his eyes as she pushes him so he’s leaned up against her bed, pressing his other hand down.

She holds them both down, inches away from his face. “Do _not_ die okay?”

Peter gives off something like a smirk, but it’s interlaced with pain - nodding slightly again as she rushed to the bathroom.

It takes less than three minutes to get the first aid kit from her bathroom, grabbing some old towels as her mind raced. 

Peter was Spider-Man, she knew this - had known it for years. But grappling with something she knew and the reality of him bleeding on her bedroom floor in the Spider-Man suit were two different entities.

Michelle swallowed down any lingering panic as she rushed back, seeing Peter with his eyes closed and lips pressed firmly together - his head back against the bed.

“Peter.” Michelle’s voice is sharp, the fear so present in it that his eyes snap open - blinking back at her as if he was surprised she was there.

“MJ—“

“I told you to stay awake.” Michelle said through gritted teeth, making a face as she looked at where the wound was. “We need to get the suit off.”

“MJ, we need to talk—“

“We can talk when you’re not dying. I don’t know how to take this shit off.” She gestured towards the suit, Peter rolling his eyes as he pressed down hard on the spider emblem on his chest.

“I’m not dying,” Peter says, with the kind of certainty that sent a shiver down her spine - as if he knew what would feel like - as he continues, “I just didn’t want someone else to find me passed out in the snow. It didn’t hit anything, it just hurts.”

He shrugs off the sleeves of the suit, wincing again as they both roll it down - relieving pressure on the wound on his stomach for a moment so that she can press gauze against it.

Michelle’s intimately aware that he’s staring at her, half-naked - forcing her attention away from his bare chest and abs and on the wound itself. 

She tilts her head, the question forming on her lips before Peter beats her to it.

“Stab wound. Those guys,” Michelle meets his eyes, seeing the hardness in his gaze, “they weren’t up to any good.”

“I thought Spider-Man could handle some worse things then wanna be frat bros.” Michelle replies, Peter giving a half-smile. 

“He can— _I_ can but I was,” he sighed, “I don’t know. I was distracted.”

Michelle says nothing, pressing down on his gut before Peter looks at her again, ignoring him until he speaks again.

“You’re taking this really well.”

“What?” 

Peter lets out a laugh. “This. Me being Spider-Man? Showing up here with,” he makes a face as he adjust himself, “with this?”

“I told you, I figured it out awhile back.” Peter’s just stares at her with a softer expression on his face, a mix of guilt and something she can’t place as she says, “And let's be honest, I’ve seen you in worse ways than this.”

Michelle says it flippantly but it’s not how she feels, panic churning in her gut as she considers how terrifying it was to have Peter here on her floor. But the time in the apartment, the gauze on the wound and the steady pressure has somehow had a better effect on him then she anticipated, looking a lot less pale and less cold than he’d been before.

She wonders if he has some kind of advanced healing, realizing there’s so much she wants to know but isn’t even sure what to ask.

“I heal fast.” He answers, Michelle’s head snapping up as if she’d actually said it out loud. “In case you were wondering.” Peter finishes, her shoulders relaxing when she realizes she hadn’t said it out loud but rather that’s just who Peter was.

He knew her by now, could probably sense what she was thinking. But Michelle pushes that aside, nodding again before saying, “I think the bleeding’s stopped.”

She double-checks only to have it confirmed, glancing around her room. “I don’t have anything to stitch you up.”

“I’ll be fine,” Peter answers, the uneasiness settling in. “I just knew I wouldn’t be… if I stayed out there.”

Michelle thinks this is her cue to say something, to invite him to stay or to talk. But Peter just goes to lift himself up, pushing the gauze down - their fingers brushing as he does so. 

She leans back and helps him stand, Peter putting the suit back on.

“I should head home. I can—I can take care of myself from here.”

“Are you sure?” Michelle asks, knowing she doesn’t have anything to offer him but also feeling that if she lets him go that it’ll mean something for their friendship - though what, she doesn’t know. 

Peter nods, not meeting her eyes as he slips his arm back into the suit. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be able to slip into my room now. I’ll be fine.”

Michelle almost considers letting him go, and then immediately squashed it - shaking her head. “No. Stay.”

He finally looks up at her, the storm behind his eyes stronger than ever. “MJ—“

“Stay.” Michelle says, glancing at him then pointedly to the wound he’s still holding. “If you slip and die out there, I’ll never forgive you.” 

Peter laughs, a sharp one that makes Michelle despite herself as he looked straight into her eyes.

He doesn’t answer but she sees the acceptance in it all the same, smiling at her as takes a deep breath and smiles in return.

* * *

It probably should’ve been more awkward, Michelle thought - the exhaustion that she’d felt earlier draping over her while Peter was in the shower.

But Peter had stayed the night before, crashing on her couch when Ned and Betty inevitably found themselves back at Ned and Peter’s.

Peter was right, Michelle never actively tried to discourage Betty from going back and forth with Ned - if only because she knew it would be a losing battle.

But her one requirement had been that if they hooked up, it wouldn’t be at their apartment - never being more thankful that Betty so easily listened to her request.

Waiting for Peter to get out of the shower, after telling her that he’d be fine several dozen times, Michelle’s mind felt muted - like the adrenaline and panic from earlier had left her spent, even if she knew they’d have to talk about this.

When Peter finally walked out, she was curled up on the couch with the blanket left out for him - blinking a few times as she shook herself awake.

“Sorry. I tried to be quiet—“

“It’s fine, Pete.” Michelle holds back a yawn, as she goes to lift herself up off the couch. “I brought extra blankets.”

Peter stood her, hair still a little wet and dressed in the T-shirt and sweatpants he’d left over from last time.

“We should talk.”

She wants to argue, give some kind of sarcastic remark but doesn’t - letting herself settle back on the couch as he joins her.

The silence is quiet, almost tense between them - Michelle having a million questions but really only wanting to ask one. Peter seems just as torn, biting his lip before he sighs.

“I fucked up.”

Michelle looks at him up and down, not so subtly looking at where his stab would had been, wondering how fast his healing actually worked for him to be walking okay. “Clearly.”

“No,” Peter shakes his head. “Not that. Though, not one of my better moments.” He lets out a huff that sounds almost like a laugh before sobering up slightly. “I mean with this. With us.”

The way he says it almost implies that there’s more to it than that, more to them than just a friendship. But Michelle doesn’t let herself think that, finally finding the courage to ask the one thing she’s been wanting to for years.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Peter opens his mouth then closes it, deflating slightly as his shoulders sag. 

“I… I don’t know.”

It hurts more than she’d expected - half expecting to give some kind of bullshit answer about protecting her or keeping her safe.

But for Peter not to know why just implies that for as close as they are that he didn’t trust her, making her question what the hell it mattered anyway even if deep inside she knew why.

She looks away from him and towards the little fake Christmas tree in their living room, the lights blinking in an automatic sequence like they were mocking her.

Peter had been there when she’d picked it out, remembering the two of them laughing as he wondered to himself how she was going to bring it in.

It was a tiny thing, almost reminiscent of the Charlie Brown Christmas tree - completely unremarkable. And yet Michelle stares at it like it’s the most fascinating thing she’s ever seen, unable to look back into Peter’s face as he continues.

“I’m sorry, MJ. I don’t have an excuse.”

“I don’t care.”

She realizes the words she says aren’t exactly what she’s intending, turning her head to see the confused and slightly hurt expression on Peter’s face.

“Not— I don't mean it like that.” 

Michelle sighs, adjusting herself on the couch.

“It’s bullshit that you thought I wouldn’t figure it out, Peter or that I didn’t know because you’re _you_ ,” Michelle gestured vaguely towards him before saying, “I don’t care that you’re Spider-Man or really why you didn’t tell me.”

Michelle bites her lip. “That’s a lie. It fucking sucks.”

“MJ—“

“It sucks that you didn’t trust me, Peter. Like,” Michelle sighs, shaking her head. “I don’t _care_ that you’re Spider-Man. I wouldn’t have told anyone. It wouldn’t have mattered. Not like that.”

Michelle feels a lot of things right now but it’s the hurt that she can’t escape, not just a hurt borne out of the fact that Peter hadn’t trusted her with his secret but a deeper hurt - like for all the things that she’s learned about him, for the years of friendship that they had - that this little layer to himself showed that he didn’t really love her as much as she loved him. 

Michelle blinks, snapping herself into focus - looking away and back at the lights on her tiny Christmas tree.

_I don’t love Peter. Not like that._

But even turning away from him, feeling the hurt and the sinking feeling in her gut, Michelle finds that she can’t hide away from it anymore - like a neon sign hanging over her head just as obvious as Peter being Spider-Man had been. 

She loved him. As a friend, definitely but maybe even something more. Something she doesn’t quite trust herself with, not when she should be upset with him - should be angry.

And Michelle was - for him lying to her all these years, even by omission - but for also getting hurt. For scaring her, terrified that he’d come to her apartment bleeding out and also terrified at the thought of what would’ve happened if he hadn’t - if Peter had tried to make it home when he was in badly need of help. 

Even more terrified of how many times he’s done it before, been in some kind of danger and put himself at risk without her having the chance to tell him how she feels. 

But Michelle doesn’t say any of that, swallowing it all down as much as she can, her voice wavering as she asks, “Why tonight?”

She turns her head back to look at him, seeing him blink at her a few times in confusion - twisting his lips in a way that she immediately recognizes as guilt. “Huh?”

“Tonight. Why’d-- why’d you show up? I mean, I’m glad you did. I’m glad you finally told me.” Peter winces at the dig, Michelle only feeling a little sorry as she presses forward. “But why _now_?” 

Peter seems to debate something with himself for a second before giving a short nod. “I--I meant it, what I said before. It was cold and you were close. I knew Ned was with Betty and I didn’t--” He sighs, shaking his head.

“I don’t know, MJ. I know what it sounds like.”

“Like an excuse.” Michelle offers, Peter nodding as the corner of one his lips turns upward.

“Cause it is. I’ve,” Peter blows air out of his mouth. “I’ve been wanting to tell you since freshman year. It’s not that I didn’t trust you, MJ.” 

He leans forward slightly, seeing the pleading look in his eyes once more. “I do, I trust you. I lo—” Peter catches himself, Michelle’s heart beating faster as he sighs, closing his eyes. 

“I didn’t want to burden you with this. Not when you don’t-- when... “ Peter trails off, opening his eyes as he looks at her again with an unreadable expression on his face - one that if Michelle lets herself, she’d see clearly. 

But she pretends like she doesn’t, just staring at him as he continues. 

“I didn’t want to tell you this because I wanted to protect--”

“Bullshit.” Michelle interjects. “Don’t give me that bullshit about protecting me or wanting to keep me safe. Life sucks and then you die, Peter. We’ve covered that.”

“That’s just it, Michelle.” Peter snaps, his voice raising slightly. Michelle leaning back a little - at his tone but also at the use of her full name, something Peter’s never really done before. 

He catches himself again, shaking his head and putting a hand out, the other rubbing his eyes together. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You don’t-- you don’t deserve that.” 

Peter props his arm up against his leg, rubbing his eyes together again before raising his head to look back up at her, Michelle seeing the tears in his eyes as he said, “But I couldn’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“Pete--”

“Please,” his voice breaks a little, Michelle holding her tongue from the look in his eyes, “Please let me finish.”

When he sees that she’s not going to interrupt him, Peter shakes his head. 

“I’ve lost a lot of people in my life. And this-- this whole thing, I didn’t want to bring you into it _not_ because I didn’t trust you, MJ. You have to know that. Please tell me you know that.” 

Michelle just stares at him, waiting as he sighs again. “But people in my life who know, it puts them at risk. It puts a target on their back.”

Peter’s voice hardens at that, a fierce look in his eyes that reminds her so much of how he’d looked in that alleyway. “And I can’t--I _won’t_ let that happen to you, MJ. I can’t do that.”

“You can’t control everything, Peter. That’s not how life works. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me? That we can’t fucking control life and love because it’s all random anyway?”

Peter shakes his head. “That’s-- that’s not what I’m saying.”

“It’s bullshit, Pete. It’s all _bullshit_. And if you think you can just show up and give me some line about wanting to control--”

“I’m not trying to _control_ you.” Peter interrupts. “Or control life, MJ. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what the hell are you--” Michelle begins, only to stop at Peter’s next exclaim.

“Because I love you, MJ.”

Michelle freezes, the words sinking deep into her gut - feeling like a heavy weight and like a relief all at once. 

Peter just stares at her, chin trembling for a bit before it straightens - taking a deep breath and nodding his head. 

“I love you. I’ve loved you since…” Peter laughs, “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Peter bites his lip, Michelle saying nothing as he presses forward. “You’re my best friend, MJ. I love you and I can’t-- I couldn’t put you in danger.”

“You told Ned.” Michelle says, her voice a lot quieter than she intends only for Peter’s shoulders to sag. 

“I didn’t tell him, he found out. In high school it’s-- it’s a long story.” He waves a hand in the air, focusing back in on her. 

“I should’ve told you. I know I should’ve but--”

“Which part?” The question is past her lips before she can stop it, Peter seemingly freezing in place just as she had before.

She can hear the inhale of his breath, studying him as she sees the way his mind races behind his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play stupid with me. You know.” Michelle responds, Peter pressing his lips together firmly. 

Michelle could easily play it off in her mind, they both could - the fact that he loves her being a declaration that would easily be something said between friends, between _best_ friends. 

But for all the years that they’ve known each other, all the times they’ve teased and argued and gone back and forth - knowing how much they’ve cared about each other - they’ve never once said that they’ve loved each other, even if Michelle starts to wonder if she’s known it for such a long time. 

If maybe her declarations of love not being real or to be just a chemical reaction brought about by physical attraction had less to do with her history and her observation and everything to do with the recognition that fascination that she’s had for Peter Parker were deep rooted in things that she could never bring herself to really comprehend. 

That maybe the chemical receptors in her brain had been messing with her when she first saw him, that maybe she got a rush of serotonin anytime he laughed or that his smile sent off something almost like fireworks - chemicals that played against her. 

That maybe the realization she’d had moments before - that she _loves_ Peter - means something just as his own declaration to her now. 

Michelle had always believed that that the love felt between friends was just as important as any kind of romantic love that a person could ever feel. And yet she can’t escape the weight pressing down on her chest - that she loves Peter both ways. 

As a friend - her very best friend. 

But that she also loved him as something more, something enhanced by the friendship that they’d shared. 

And from the way that Peter was staring back at her, her question hanging in the air - she knows as well as she knows anything that he understands it too. 

“I couldn’t tell you because you wouldn’t have believed me.” Peter finally responds, Michelle running his words over her mind. 

She could easily attribute it to his secret, to Spider-Man. But Michelle can sense it in her gut, that that’s not what Peter is referring to. She takes a leap, asking, “I might’ve.” 

Peter gives a twisted smile. “You don’t even believe in it as a concept. You say it’s bullshit any chance you get. You--” He shakes his head. “You wouldn’t have believed me.” 

“I would’ve. I do.” Michelle answers, Peter searching her face. 

“You--“

“I believe you.” Michelle says. “It’s bullshit, still. But I believe you.” 

Peter narrows his eyes, smirking. “Bullshit that I love you?”

“Bullshit.” Michelle says affirmatively, smirking back as she says, “That you love me. That you thought I wouldn’t believe you. That you didn’t tell me you were Spider-Man because of it.”

“Why?” Peter laughs, the sound making her smile.

“Because you love everyone, Peter.” Michelle says, seeing the way his face falls - as if she doesn’t get it. But Michelle does, extending a hand out towards him.

“But for the record,” she says, “I love you too.” 

Peter stares at her for a moment, waiting for the penny to drop it seems - searching her face before he asks, “Like a friend?”

“Yes you fucking idiot, like a friend.” Michelle rolls her eyes, tightening her grip in his hand. But Peter doesn’t laugh, staring at her like he’s been waiting a long time to hear her words - not willing to go there and pretend it was like a joke, Michelle pushing that down as she says, “But maybe in the other way too.”

“Maybe? Or you do?” Peter whispers, a hope in his voice that Michelle can’t deny - the sound of it making her own flutter in a way that she doesn’t really trust. 

But Michelle feels it, a certainty as clear as Peter’s hand intertwined with hers. 

Rationally, it could be because of the late hour. That she lets herself admit this thing, this life-changing all consuming thing because he had shown up bleeding in her bedroom.

That maybe it’s just adrenaline, pushing her forward in a way that she’ll regret in the morning.

But even as she thinks that, there’s another part of her that knows she won’t. Another part of her that almost feels like her hesitancy had everything to do with how terrified she feels about actually feeling something for Peter.

And she does, Michelle can’t deny it. She loves him. As a friend. And as more.

“I do.” 

Peter searches her face before breaking out into a smile, only for it to turn into confusion. “So all these years… all this talk about love being just chemicals and physical reactions. That was all--”

“True.” Michelle says. “It’s true. Love is bullshit, Peter.” 

Peter lets out another laugh, completely bewildered - just caught off guard enough that when Michelle leans forward to press her lips against his, it was enough of a surprise for him as it was for her. 

His lips are chapped, from the wind most likely - knowing Peter never wore enough chapstick. But Michelle doesn’t care, moving her lips against his until they part - exhaling as she leans back, Peter’s eyes opening up in a daze. 

“But someone once said that love is a lot more complex than I give it credit for.” Michelle smiles, Peter squeezing her hand as he smiles back. 

“It is.” He says, Michelle nodding. 

“So you being Spider-Man, you loving me. Me loving you. It’s bullshit.” Michelle leans forward again, the lights from their Christmas tree dancing across Peter’s face in a way that makes her smile inches away from his face. 

“But if I had to live anyone’s bullshit, I’d rather it be yours.” 

Peter leans back in surprise, letting out a sharp laugh. “Move over Wordsworth and Blake. That’s the best line of poetry I’ve ever heard.” 

Michelle laughs, rolling her eyes only to stop when Peter leans back in to kiss her, bringing the hand currently not in his hand to her face. 

They have to talk about everything - about the years of secrets, about what brought him to the apartment, about everything that the future would hold. 

But it’s that last thought, the idea of a future - a future with _Peter_ \- that makes Michelle push that away for now, believing in what she had said and all the things she hadn’t said. 

But love - whatever nebulous, impossible thing it could be - Michelle was sure of one thing, the kiss deepening as she lets go of his hand to pull him closer. 

Maybe love is just a chemical reaction, a choice built up out of a concept that doesn’t really exist. 

Maybe it was simple or complex or impossible or bullshit. 

But whatever love is, it wasn’t or could ever be - Michelle was sure that she felt it for Peter Parker. 

  
  



End file.
